2015
by TimeLady Potter
Summary: It's been just under a week since Moriarty made his public return to London. He invites Sherlock to be with him when midnight strikes.


_ Come and play, dear-JMxx_

Sherlock stared at the words that lit up his screen with a number of mixed emotions. Fear, curiosity, relief? Some odd combination? The one who always mastered hiding emotions couldn't pick out the individual ones from the heap.

"Where are you going?" John's voice came from the sitting room as Sherlock stood, heading towards the door.

"Out," Sherlock replied simply, putting on his coat and scarf. He looked at his phone again, the message still pulled up. Above it, the time read 23:30.

"It's nearly midnight, Sherlock. Mary and I didn't come to celebrate the New Year with you just to have you leave thirty minutes before it bloody begins!" John protested, grabbing Sherlock's wrist. "Is there a case you don't want to tell me about?"

"John, I'm fine. I'll be back soon." Sherlock gently pulled his wrist away, locking his phone as to not let John see the messages on it. He then opened the door and stepped out into the blustery evening of December 31st, 2014.

_ Where this time?-SH _Sherlock texted, his hands numb from the cold exposure. He had ideas where Moriarty would want to meet him- possibly the pool room where Sherlock had first met the 'true' Moriarty? Possibly the top of St. Bart's? Anywhere, really. Sherlock just thought of the probable places.

Last Thursday, on Christmas, Sherlock Holmes had become a murderer. The next day, he was saved from a six-month long murder plan by none other than Jim Moriarty. It seemed so convenient…

Too convenient.

Sherlock had spent the near week after trying to break into the criminal's possible code. This was far too precise to be a whim on Moriarty's part. No, he wanted him alive for some reason. But for what? To play more games?

When Sherlock shared his ideas with John, John simply said it was a coincidence and he was thankful for it. However, nothing John said could sway Sherlock from his thinking.

_ Where it all ended the last time. Really, Sherly, I thought that would be obvious.-JMxx_

Sherlock opened the phone, looking at the message. So, the rooftop then. What might Moriarty's plans be? Interrupting his thoughts, another message appeared below the last:

_ Do hurry though. I don't want to spend the rest of 2014 waiting on you.-JMxx_

Sherlock nodded at the phone, locking it and pressing the home button. The time read 23:32. Luckily cabs ran late, or he would have to have walked (which he could have done, but his luck something would happen. Besides, the sooner he got this over with the better.

Sherlock hailed a cab, muttering to the cabbie to take him to St. Bart's. The cabbie, looking thankful he didn't have a drunk this time around, obliged cheerfully. Sherlock quietly watched as London passed by through the window; he never got out on New Year's Eve due to the annoying drunks, but only now did he realise what he had been missing. So many lights.

The cabbie stopped in front of St. Bart's, then told Sherlock that he wouldn't take his money (New Year's treat, and a thank you for not being drunk). With a shaky breath, Sherlock entered the hospital, deciding to head to the morgue first.

"Molly?" Sherlock called out quietly, hearing footsteps in the morgue.

The response was a small clatter of metal hitting the floor, accompanied by a small squeak of a yell.

"O-Oh. Uhm, Hi Sherlock," came the voice of Molly Hooper as she picked up her metal instrument. She then walked over to Sherlock. "I didn't expect anyone down here this late. Are you alright? Do you need anything?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Just thought I'd… drop by." He paused, looking at Molly. _Hasn't been home since 6:00. Stressed. Trying to distract herself. _"It's late. Why are you still here?"

Molly gave a small shrug. "Oh, just.. You know… Stuff." She wasn't really awkward in the sense of having a crush on Sherlock like she used to, she just knew it was futile to lie, so she tried to put as much truth in it as possible. Too bad that at that exact moment words failed her.

Sherlock didn't buy into it, but he glanced at a clock. 23:52. How had he taken that long? "I'll be checking back down here before I leave. If you're not gone, I will personally pay a cab to take you home."

Molly looked at him, then gave a small nod. She then continued to her work, leaving Sherlock to ascend the multiple flights of stairs to the rooftop.

As we was about to open the door, he checked his phone. 23:55. His nerves were shot with anticipation, his mind buzzing. What could Moriarty want? Why was it so important it happen before the New Year? Should he wait five minutes to see how Moriarty would react to tardiness? As if in answer to his question, his phone lit up with a new message:

_ I know you're here, darling. Don't be shy. I am not a patient man.-JMxx_

Sherlock heaved a small sigh before opening the door and walking out onto the roof. He felt a cold chill from both the breeze and the silhouette of Jim Moriarty, sitting on the ledge- just like a few years ago. Though this time, there was no "Stayin Alive" playing from the man's phone.

As Sherlock stepped closer, he could make out more details of the Irish man. He seemed to have become paler over his three year absence, _lack of sun more than likely_ Sherlock thought. He then noticed the clothes Moriarty was wearing. All name-brand and all something an ordinary person would wear on a date with someone. Sherlock tensed slightly.

"Look who finally decided to make it," Jim teased, smirking a bit. "I was afraid you wouldn't show. It'd be a pity to drink this all on my own…" he grabbed a bottle of champagne from near his feet, shaking it a bit in gesture.

"You called me up here to drink a bottle of champagne with you?" Sherlock asked skeptically.

"Well, not just that," Jim replied, in a mocking hurt tone. "There's a reason I let this be the spot of your famous fall, Sherlock. I thought I'd share that with you tonight." He gestured to a spot on the ledge beside him. "Come on now. It's two minutes until midnight. Might as well make yourself comfortable."

Sherlock hesitantly sat beside Jim, looking around. True, he did feel slightly underdressed when in contrast to Jim's expensive and fancy suit, but he tried not to think of it. Since when were clothes an issue with him?

"Now, look in that direction, alright?" Jim pointed towards roughly where Big Ben was, the excitement showing on his face. "It's absolutely gorgeous up here.." He trailed off, watching the sky in anticipation.

The two minutes passed, and Sherlock kept watching where Jim had told him. He was about to protest that nothing special was going on when a distant tolling silenced him, followed by the start of a fireworks show. Sherlock watched, loosing himself in them. His mind tried to find rhyme and reason in the colour schemes, but failed.

Jim also watched, smiling like a little kid. He had long ago abandoned the attempt to pick out the colour schemes and simply watched.

Both of the men continued watching until the show gave off its grand finale of so many fireworks at once Sherlock gave himself a headache trying to deduce the patterns. He still watched, however. It was so beautiful…

When the show ended, Jim turned to Sherlock. Sherlock, in turn, turned towards Jim.

"Well, Happy 2015," Jim muttered quietly, a small smile on his lips. _Smile, not smirk _Sherlock noted.

"Happy 2015," Sherlock said. He was about to say something else, but was interrupted by something soft gently touching his lips. He saw Jim's face close to his, his eyes closed and lips on his.

Sherlock didn't expect what was happening to happen at all, but he found himself eventually kissing Jim back, just as gently.

The kiss went on until they both needed air. They pulled away, looking at each other for a few moments.

"You never answered my question," Jim whispered, looking into Sherlock's beautiful greenish blueish amazing eyes. "Did you miss me?"

Sherlock paused for a moment, looking into the dark eyes of the consulting criminal- most people would think they were completely black, but Sherlock could see the dark brown rings of them.

"Yes," Sherlock whispered, going in for another gentle kiss.

The champagne bottle lay forgotten by Jim's feet.

**Hello, all! I'm so sorry I haven't posted anything in nearly a year… it's been a wild ride. But I decided I should give my new OTP from 2014 a run in a small little drabble. Happy New Year! -Timelady Potter**


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